The Changes We Make
by Juusan13
Summary: A battle is a battle; that at least is a given. In a battle such as the Battle of Five Armies, one can expect the worst: loss of hope, tragedy, death, betrayal. In such a battle, everyone, no matter how small, can make the biggest of changes. For in a battle such as this, change means everything. WARNING: Major and minor character death. Rated T to be safe


A/N: Welcome to my first two-shot! I hope you enjoy!

Warning: I based this fic on the movie-verse of The Battle of Five Armies. Also, since the official DVD hasn't been released yet, I only have to depend on my memory of the movie. (Which is quite a while ago if I might add) Forgive me for any inconsistencies that you see and please do not hesitate to correct me!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the familiar characters seen here or even the franchise. The idea is mine, though.

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><p>His head was pounding.<p>

While Gandalf _had _warned them about the upcoming battle, he never expected it to be like _this. _

The chances were already bleak for their side, even from the very start when it seemed that the dwarves (even with the reinforcements from Dain) were ready to take on an entire contingent of Mirkwood elves and a village full of fishermen. Yet now as the three armies of the free people of Middle Earth united, albeit reluctantly, under a temporary alliance, it was still very evident to both sides of the battle on who had the upper hand in terms of, well, everything.

Why in Middle Earth had he, the respectable Bilbo Baggins even agreed to join this venture in the first place? Truthfully, he hadn't established a definite answer to that specific question yet. He also hadn't exactly discerned why he stayed on this foolish quest on the first place. Sure, he told the dwarves that he wanted to help them reclaim their home, had it really been worth all of the things they went through?

Bilbo had been contemplating on that thought for the past few days, with everything that happened; dealing with the guilt of awakening Smaug and setting him off on Laketown, facing the stress of hiding the Arkenstone from Thorin, actually pretending to look for the Arkenstone as per the King Under the Mountain's orders, watching as Thorin was slowly and surely being consumed by the dragon sickness.

He recalled a few moons past, when he and the Company escaped the goblin tunnels as well as facing Azog the Defiler on the cliff, he had been so sure then of his conviction to do everything in his power to assist them in reclaiming Erebor; yet that conviction seemed to be shaky lately. Oh dear, now his thought train was revolving around a basic idea. His mind was dulling; whether having been the product of being surrounded by 13 rowdy dwarves (or more accurately, 12 rowdy dwarves and one brooding Company leader), or plainly from the stress of battling/running from orc and warg packs.

"Bilbo!"

The voice of Dwalin immediately snapped Bilbo from his deep thinking. He cursed himself from being distracted from the still ongoing battle around him yet he sat up, confused. Dwalin was stooping over him, crouching down as if Bilbo was on the ground.

Wait, why was he lying down? Oh Yavanna, why was his head _pounding_? The answer struck him like a hammer. He vaguely recalled getting knocked out by a rather nasty blow to the head. At least that explained why his head was aching so much. He shook his head to gain his senses and took Dwalin's offered hand of assistance to stand up.

"Are ya alright, laddie?" Dwalin's concerned voice questioned him. No doubt it stemmed from finding the poor Hobbit out cold after a pack of goblins and orcs overwhelmed the two. In a battle as bloodthirsty as this, one can never stop worrying.

Bilbo waved his concern off, "I'm fine, just let me get my bearings."

Naturally the hardened warrior doubted his words yet trusted him nonetheless. The dwarf gave him a glare then proceeded to hunt down more opponents to exterminate; leaving Bilbo alone for a bit.

After a few seconds of heavy breathing and holding on to the crumbling wall for balance, Bilbo decided to contribute to their bleak side of this massive battle. He ran off to the direction he was facing, which happened to be towards the frozen waterfall.

As he was approaching the last bit of building before stepping on the waterfall, he suddenly remembered.

How he wish he hadn't.

He witnessed death before, of course he had. He watched the three trolls turn into stone; he watched as the dwarves fought and killed orcs and wargs before joining in and killing a few for himself; he had also killed more than a few spiders. Witnessing the death of beings of the darker races of Middle Earth had little to no effect on him now. Yet never in his short life (comparing to a dwarven lifespan) had he ever seen a member of the free races be killed before him.

He however, had unfortunately watched as life slowly faded from the eyes of his parents, one after the other. They died a natural death; that he could easily accept. They were getting old, and they died happy.

Of all the members of the Company, Fili was one of the least likely to die. It was natural to assume that as he was one of the youngest. Bilbo knew he had to expect death in a battle as fierce as this but having witnessed it on a person dear to him sent waves of pain to his heart.

He remembered Fili's pained expression as Azog drove his blade through him.

He remembered the sickening sound of said blade piercing skin.

He remembered Thorin's anguished cry for his heir.

He remembered faintly hearing Kili's screams of rage across the waterfall.

He remembered moments of stillness and quiet when Azog dropped Fili from the tower.

He remembered the feeling of helplessness as Fili fell.

Bilbo shook off the terrible memory. No use remembering that now, a battle was going on! Pull yourself together Bilbo Baggins!

He was _not _going to zone out again! Not while he could save lives!

The hobbit steeled himself and looked for the nearest fight. The only one within hearing range was the duel between Azog and Thorin. As much as he wanted to help, deep inside Bilbo knew Thorin would want to claim defeating the pale orc on his own. Damn that stubborn dwarf!

The two opponents were seemingly in a stalemate, the ice cracked all around them; risk of falling into the frigid waters was high, but still they fought. They fought with such ferocity to make their standoff in the Battle of Azanulbizar look like a friendly spar.

Bilbo found his body unable to move. The battle, while fierce, was mesmerizing. It was a beautiful but deadly dance with two opponents of equal skill. He watched as Thorin dodged yet another attempt of Azog to bash his head in with a weighted chain. As it fell, not touching its intended target, said target rushed forward trying to slash his opponent in the face.

Azog rapidly pulled his chain, shifting his weight to help move the hefty weapon. Thorin put a stop to his slashing motion to once again dodge an attack.

The more time passed, the more the duel seemed a cat and mouse game, Thorin was not getting an opening to strike Azog and Azog wasn't allowing him to find one. Despite this it was clear that both sides were tiring. One such rest period was observed for a few seconds. The need for rest was mutual between the opponents. Both were breathing heavily and staring each other down. The tension was still thick in the air; adrenaline and pure rage were the only things keeping the two standing on both feet.

One would stare in confusion as Thorin bent down to pick up the fallen weighted chain near him. Azog certainly did so for the stature of Thorin, of a dwarf in general, was not capable of utilizing that sort of weapon properly in heated battle. The dwarf then threw the weight to the arms of the frozen orc, who caught it easily. The adrenaline-driven mind of Azog could not comprehend as his rival stepped backward and watched him.

Bilbo too was confused. Was Thorin trying to give Azog assistance? Was he trying to even the playing field?

His questions were soon answered as he watched as the island of ice Azog (and previously Thorin, who stepped on to more stable ice) slowly tipped due to the imbalance of weight upon it. Thorin's actions were soon justified. Bilbo felt ashamed that he doubted his friend.

Azog realized too late on what Thorin was planning. He fell into the icy waters without much of a struggle.

The splash of the water brought reality back to Bilbo. He was finally capable of moving. The first thing he did was rush toward the exhausted dwarf, who was watching his foe float to the edge of the waterfall through the ice.

"Thorin!" he called, running across the cracks in the ice from the previous fight.

The dwarf was clearly surprised but nonetheless relieved upon seeing the hobbit.

"Bilbo! What are you still doing here?! You are not supposed to take part in this battle! Have you not said that another army would attack from the north – !"

"Thorin," Bilbo interrupted. "I am not going anywhere; I want to help you. The reason why I came up here in the first place is to increase the chances of survival for you, Dwalin, Kili – "

Thorin's eyes widened in horror in his realization, "KILI!" he shouted before running toward the opposite tower.

Before Bilbo began running to follow him, Thorin bellowed without looking back, "Master Baggins! If you truly want to help, I advise you to stay where you are!"

Frozen in shock, Bilbo started to stutter, "Wha-? Bu-but – !"

Thorin stopped his running for a moment to face him, "You would do me a great favor if you would remain here. Take out any stragglers nearby with that glowing sword of yours; I am capable of finding my nephew myself."

With that he sped off, leaving Bilbo alone.

Why that miserable, stubborn, hot-headed excuse of a dwarf! Bilbo knew very well that he only said that to keep him safe. He knew how to take care of himself thank you!

He also knew that Dwalin already took out all potential threats behind them and was likely heading off in the same direction where Thorin left to meet the incoming army.

Then the thought of Thorin's concern for him popped back into his mind. Had Thorin finally been cured of the Dragon Sickness? The idea brought newfound hope into the heart of the weary hobbit. He suddenly had faith that they might win this battle yet.

Their side wasn't looking so bleak now; Thorin had beaten Azog, the pale orc floating towards the end of the waterfall. Bilbo almost didn't believe it; he had to see the corpse drifting away again. Just to make sure. After all, Thorin was sure that Azog died of blood loss from the injuries he had given him in the Battle of Azanulbizar. Yet he had been wrong, for it had turned out that Azog was still alive a little less than a century and a half later, determined to wipe the line of Durin off of Middle Earth.

Bilbo traced Azog to nearly the edge. Even with all his battle scars, the orc commander looked almost peaceful underneath the ice; now that he couldn't harm him, even when he was virtually standing above him.

Or so he thought.

The last thing Bilbo expected was Azog's eyes opening, nor was he prepared when he blasted through the ice, effectively knocking Bilbo back a few meters.

Bilbo quickly tried to scramble to his feet and braced himself. Being the only target within sight, he alone would have to withstand the onslaught brought upon by Azog's rage. He was not proud of his chances as of the moment; his only weapon being Sting along with his limited combat experience; he was slightly wet from the splatters from Azog's ascension from the waterfall and he was already starting to shiver. Yet he still did not forget that while Azog had the upper hand in terms of brute strength, size, and experience, he _did _spend a few minutes or so submerged in frozen water. Adding to that, it was very likely that he was still exhausted from his battle with Thorin earlier.

Now was not the time to be overanalyzing! He had to concentrate on Azog! (And hopefully, surviving such)

Azog let loose an enraged roar, "_OAKENSHIELD!_" he bellowed.

The orc commander looked around frantically, his eyes resting on the tense form of the hobbit, holding his little dagger forward in an attempt to challenge him.

Seeing no one else to unleash his anger on, still fuming for the fact that Oakenshield had left before making sure of his demise. This was utter disrespect to him.

Bilbo had little time to react as Azog charged at him with full speed, his movements being as if he had not been previously submerged in freezing waters. He also had no idea how to act as Azog raised his blade, the one where his right arm should be, knocked Sting away from his hands and plunged said blade deep into the center of his chest.

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><p>AN: Well. This seems like a good spot to end it, eh? Like I said in the first A/N, this will be a two-shot. I might be able to post the ending within two weeks, so don't fret! I am completing such as I am typing this! Oh and one more thing: Thank you for reading! And don't remember to drop in a review! Criticism is welcome, flames tolerated as long as you tell me why this sucks. :P


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